


pressure

by YouAreMyDesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Bottom Will Graham, Butt Plugs, Choking, Cock Warming, Come Eating, Creampie, Dark Will Graham, Dom Hannibal Lecter, Dom/sub, Feeder Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Marking, Murder Husbands, Oral Fixation, Stuffing, Sub Will Graham, Top Hannibal Lecter, Urine Drinking, Watersports, Will Graham Knows, spitting in mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 17:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18124499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: He is an open vessel, aching to be full of whatever Hannibal feels inclined to give him. At his core, something gluttonous and starving, insatiable, rubbed raw until his soul shines in his eyes.





	pressure

**Author's Note:**

> *

Hannibal would be blind not to notice it – the way Will bites his lower lip and touches himself after Hannibal fills him, the ravenous, dark look in his eyes as his fingers slide through Hannibal's come as it slicks between his thighs. The way he eats, and eats, eagerly, whatever Hannibal feeds him, drinks until he's pliant and lax and lets Hannibal do whatever he wants.

The way he settles, and sighs, when Hannibal buys a huge knotted plug, to keep him full.

His boy likes being full, likes it when Hannibal pets over his distended belly, when Hannibal slides four fingers into his mouth and spreads them until his lips can't close, until he drools and shivers and sucks on his fingers, tongue between his knuckles, staring up at Hannibal with such deep, dark devotion that it makes Hannibal feel akin to God.

He is an open vessel, aching to be full of whatever Hannibal feels inclined to give him. At his core, something gluttonous and starving, insatiable, rubbed raw until his soul shines in his eyes.

He is staring up at Hannibal now, his hands behind his knees, keeping himself spread out and open as Hannibal fucks him. He has Will in the bathtub, and there is the blood of their kill on their hands, red-lining Will's teeth as he moans, lips parted, head tilting back. His knuckles are white, red caked into the lines of them, and Hannibal flattens his hands over Will's, folds him further, and works his cock into his sweet boy, watching how Will's spent cock twitches and jerks on his dirty stomach as Hannibal drives, mercilessly, against his prostate. He likes Will when he's too fucked-out to move, can only tremble and moan and let Hannibal use him.

Hannibal presses in deep, looming over Will, and bites his spread mouth as he comes, hips jerking, seeking the spasming tightness of Will's body around him. Will whimpers into the kiss, jaws parting so Hannibal can fill him with his tongue, his lower lip – his saliva, as he pulls back and lets some excess drip obscenely onto Will's tongue.

Will swallows, his eyes wide and dark, making the flush on his cheeks rose-red, his hair almost black from sweat and coating his forehead and neck.

Hannibal pulls out with a hiss, kissing him again, and Will whimpers loudly. "Please," he whispers, clawing the backs of his own thighs, keeping himself bent and folded since Hannibal didn't say he could relax. "Please. More."

Hannibal's head tilts, and he smiles, brows rising as he watches Will squirm and writhe beneath him. He rears back, settling on his heels, and pushes his thumbs into either side of Will's hole, stretching him, watching the sweet, red muscle flinch and spasm, trying to clamp down around the thick stream of come already leaking out.

He tuts, thumbing through the mess, gathers some on his fingers and shoves them into Will's mouth. Will sucks, immediately – "Good boy." – and Hannibal pushes forward again, free hand fisting the head of his wet, soft cock, and he works himself back inside.

Will sighs, lashes fluttering, exhale heavy. He probably thinks Hannibal intends to stay inside him, keeping him stretched and full, until he can get hard again – and on some days, that is precisely what Hannibal does, using the sweet, hot clench of Will to keep his cock warm until he's ready to use his boy as it is his right to do.

But that is not his intention tonight. Hannibal sighs, smiling, and closes his eyes, relaxing and pushing in as deep as he can, before he lets out another heavy exhale. Will's eyes fly open and he jerks, whining in confusion and question, and Hannibal slides his hand from Will's mouth to his throat, pinning him down as he floods Will, soaking his cock and Will's insides with warm urine.

Will stares at him, openly, and his expression is too shocked to be outraged. His brow is creased, lips parted and red, and Hannibal tightens his hand, pleased when, after a moment, Will merely relaxes and lets it happen.

And Will is filling – Hannibal pushes his other hand onto Will's swollen belly, pressing down hard through the streaks of his drying come with the heel of his hand, and Will groans, knuckles white, hips lifting as his body releases a heavy gush of urine and come, staining Hannibal's thighs and hips.

He growls, and pulls out, wraps his hand around his cock and guides the stream over Will's balls, between his sweet thighs as they tense and he tries to pull him together, so Hannibal cannot coat his face.

Hannibal tightens his hand with a snarl, squeezing until Will's eyes flash with some long-buried prey-instinct panic, but he opens his legs again, wincing and clenching his jaw, lips stubbornly closed, as Hannibal covers his chest with urine and, finally  moves his hand and cups Will's hip, angling him up so it pools in his collarbones and trickles down the sides of his neck.

Will flinches, twisting his face away as Hannibal finishes. He's filthy, a mess, and reeks of Hannibal's conquest in a way so damning Hannibal is tempted to tell him he's not allowed to shower. But, delightful as it is to see Will, flushed and ruined and humiliated, the smell is sharp, and outweighs the satisfaction Hannibal would get by making Will walk around stinking of his urine.

Once Will senses he's done, he sucks in a breath, wincing as Hannibal gently coaxes him to lower his legs, forcing another heavy rush of urine and semen to leak out of him. Oh, Will is beautiful like this, irrevocably marked – for no matter how clean he gets, Hannibal was inside him, and marked him the way animals do, and the memory will linger in their brains for a long time.

Will lifts his head, hoping, perhaps, to save his hair from the growing puddle, and glares openly at Hannibal, pushing himself to his elbows.

Before he can speak, Hannibal grabs his wet neck, tightens his nails over Will's rushing pulse, and kisses him, and _God_ , Will _stinks_ here, he's trembling and soaked and ruined, his thighs tensing around Hannibal's hips, rubbing slick and soft up his flanks. Even still, Will clings to him.

"Don't you _ever_ try and refuse me again," Hannibal snaps, thinking how those same sweet thighs tried to pull together, tried to push him away. He pulls back and meets Will's eyes, sees them darken until there is no blue left, sees him lick his bitten-red mouth, his lashes fluttering as Hannibal squeezes his neck.

He says, weakly, "I'm sorry, Sir. I won't, I promise."

Hannibal smiles, and kisses his forehead, breathing in the scent of sex and urine and Hannibal on him. "Good boy," he murmurs, and stands. "Let's get you cleaned up."

 

 

They don't talk about it. They never do – the first time Hannibal choked Will until he came so hard he passed out, Will didn't talk about it after, but started offering his neck, showing Hannibal the delicate thrum of his pulse, the pretty flush that starts on his cheeks and dips down. The first time Hannibal bound his wrists, tight enough with coarse rope that there were welts lingering for days after, Will didn't talk about it, but every time Hannibal's eyes flashed to the box in which they were kept, he would slide to his knees and offer his hands, cupped as though in prayer.

So this is not out of the ordinary, and he doesn't let it trouble him. Will would say something, if Hannibal did something he didn't like, the same way he spoke up about Hannibal fucking him – "You come inside me, or you don't come at all." – and Hannibal biting him – "My shoulders hurt too much, you need to rub them after if you're going to do that." – and Hannibal putting a gag in his mouth. Things he allowed, once, to sate their curiosity, but would not allow again until they'd discussed it, and either agreed to continue, or discarded the notion entirely.

He doesn't bring up the urination; the degrading, humiliating aspect of it. The heat. The fullness. So, until he does, Hannibal assumes he has no problem with a repeat performance.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, absently petting through Will's soft curls as he slouches in his chair, closing his eyes as Will shifts, his lips spread warm and wide around Hannibal's cock, his lashes low, utterly relaxed, floating in that place Hannibal brings him to so easily with wine, and a thick plug in his ass, and kneeling between Hannibal's feet, keeping him warm and sending little tingles of pleasure up from his pelvis, along his spine, settling heavy in his head.

Will's lips are bruised, wet with saliva, his jaw lax so that it pools and smears on his chin. He looks lovely like that, slack and relaxed, no thought in him but the occasional swallow so he doesn't drip. He barely moves, shoulders lifting in light inhales, lashes fluttering as Hannibal pets him.

Hannibal smiles, cups his nape, and rolls his hips, once, getting Will's attention. Will's tongue flattens to the shaft of his cock immediately, he sucks in a breath, closes his eyes, his fingers flexing on the outside of Hannibal's ankles.

He sighs again, flattening his free hand on the underside of Will's sore jaw, rubbing at the hinge as Will shivers, sucking lightly. "Darling," he murmurs, soft and low, and Will's lashes flutter, part to reveal black irises, and he looks up, meeting Hannibal's eyes. "I need to use the restroom."

Will's throat clenches as he swallows. His nostrils flare. He doesn't otherwise move.

Hannibal's brows lift, and he tightens his hand on Will's nape, smooths his thumb over Will's mouth to encourage his lips to tighten. "Really?" he asks, somewhat breathless.

Will's nails tighten around his feet, he growls, but doesn't give the double-tap that acts as their safeword when he can't speak.

Hannibal breathes out, shivering, his stomach clenching. He nods, and Will goes lax again, sinking down onto Hannibal's soft cock until his nose presses to the exposed patch of pubic hair, revealed by his parted clothes. Hannibal's cockhead sinks past his tongue, and he closes his eyes, tips his head back, and relaxes.

Will chokes around the first spurt, his hands sliding up Hannibal's legs to grip his knees, but he rises, just enough to take all of Hannibal into his mouth, his throat working in tight, quick swallows as Hannibal floods his mouth and he has no choice but to swallow, or let it spill. Even with this, he is greedy, drinking Hannibal's urine the same way he might drink water or wine. Hannibal smiles, pets his jaw, squeezes his pelvic muscles to try and make the stream thinner, let it linger, and Will whines, noticing, slick tongue dragging along Hannibal's shaft, aching for more.

Hannibal finishes with a groan, and pulls Will back by his hair, gripping his jaw tightly and forcing his lips apart, gazing down at him. Will swallows, open-mouthed, lets out a weak, breathless sound, his cheeks flushed very darkly, his eyes black.

Hannibal swallows, reaches for the remaining wine in his glass, and sets it to Will's lower lip. Tilts it, making Will drink, and Will's lashes go low, taking the glass with a shaking hand and showing his throat as he swallows, covering whatever lingering taste there might be from Hannibal's urine.

Will blinks, once, slowly, and hands the glass back when it's empty, and Hannibal puts it on the table before he pulls Will to his knees, leans in, taking a cursory inhale and smelling only wine. He licks between Will's teeth, feeds him his tongue, and Will moans frantically, pawing at Hannibal's thighs as he's kissed.

Hannibal pulls back, allowing Will air, and smiles as he's met with a wide-eyed gaze, Will's eyes shining and so, so dark. "You're full of surprises, darling," he purrs, and sits up, tugging on Will's hair. "Come here."

Will swallows, climbing into Hannibal's lap, his cock hard and his bare chest flushed. Hannibal reaches behind him, tugging on the plug until it leaves Will's desperate, spasming body, and he tugs Will close to him, leans in and bites his neck, forcing Will down onto his cock.

Will moans, clinging to him, rutting desperately against his clothed stomach, all of him bare and shining with sweat. He nuzzles Hannibal neck, and Hannibal flattens a hand on his belly, which is heavy from their dinner, tense. He pushes down on it and Will whimpers, breathing out heavily against his warm skin, and moves his hands to the back of the chair so he can ride Hannibal in earnest.

"Please," he gasps, whining as Hannibal wraps a hand around his cock, stroking tight and quick. "Please, Sir, come in me. Fill me up."

Hannibal snarls, and yanks Will back and off of him, stands and turns Will, throwing him onto his stomach, heavy on the table. Will goes, moaning weakly, pressing flat, and Hannibal grabs his hips, yanks him back so he's standing on shaky, spread legs, and his cock hangs heavy and leaking onto the floor.

He fucks in again, brutally, making the table creak and groan in a chorus to Will's desperate whines. He angles Will up, makes him lift his hips until the thick drag of Hannibal's cock brushes his prostate, and Will seizes, spasming, and comes onto the floor between his feet.

Hannibal snarls, following a moment after, making sure he's as deep as he can get so that Will's greedy ass takes all of it. He grabs the plug, pulling out and filling Will with it without giving him room to rest, and corrects his clothes as Will remains, trembling and panting and spent.

He hauls Will upright, and puts him on his knees, and Will gazes up at him, soaked with adoration, no more complicated in emotion than a supplicant kneeling before their God.

Hannibal smiles, and bows over him, brushing Will's sweaty hair from his face and touching his thumb to the corner of Will's mouth – a light trigger that makes him part his lips in a needy gasp. He lets saliva pool, and puts his mouth an inch from Will's, pleased when Will leans up, fighting the hand on his head, and licks the thick drip of saliva from him, tongue curled to catch all of it, and Hannibal tightens his grip with a snarl, kisses him deeply, and tastes only wine.

Then, he pulls back, and tucks Will's head down. "On the floor," he commands, and Will goes, to his elbows and knees – not questioning, he doesn't need to ask questions, trusts Hannibal's care and control of him. Hannibal smiles, and lifts his foot, pressing down on the back of Will's neck.

"Clean up your mess," he says, and Will whimpers, his eyes closing, tongue snaking out to lick over one of the streaks of his come on the hardwood floor. Hannibal reaches back, grabs his chair, and sits down with a heavy sigh, his foot still braced solidly on Will's neck, watching him lick the floor clean with long, broad swipes of his tongue.

When he's finished, there are parts of the floor shining, and Hannibal idly contemplates, one day, making Will lick all of it clean. Another time, perhaps.

He removes his foot and takes his cock out again, tugging on Will's hair and bringing him back to his knees, between Hannibal's feet. Will's lips part without asking, and he sucks him down, and having come so recently, the touch of his wet, warm mouth sends sharp little fissures of pleasure up Hannibal's spine. Will sighs, and settles, his hands returning to Hannibal's ankles and his shoulders turning heavy.

Hannibal smiles, and pets a hand through his hair. "Good boy."


End file.
